A Bad Day At Work

One day I’m going to own these walls
and floor. Tear out the carpet
in favor of fur. Strip all the paint
in favor of bark. I want it sexy enough in here
to make no one want to work harder than I do.
Give me this boneyard and I’ll hand you back a farm.

One day I’m going to be a wheel
someday rolling across the plains
spinning past the desert’s hollow cheeks
all the way from this town to the far coast
and on into the waves.

One day I’m going to never have a bad day at work again
and it will not be my idea when I go, it’ll just be
the only idea anyone has for how to handle my impossible
beauty and lean tongue. Till then I don’t want to hear anything
that isn’t a come-on. I don’t want to do anything
that isn’t a faceplant. I don’t want to, bastard,
I don’t want to.

About Tony Brown

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A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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